


stronger than a 90's trend

by noturno



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!, Alternate Universe - Beach, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Bickering, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, Fluff, Growing Up Together, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Making Out, Non-Linear Narrative, Pet Names, Relationship Study, Road Trips, Surprises, Taylor Swift Lyrics As A Plot Device, Trans Character, Trans Lee Jeno, set in 1999, so much fluff i am disgusted with myself actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:15:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28063791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noturno/pseuds/noturno
Summary: “Want me to drive today?”Jeno jumps in his hold, almost knocking them both off the bed. “No!” he exclaims, sitting up, and Mark can’t help but start laughing. “I said I’d take you to the beach, I’m taking you to the beach. I’m true to my words.”“I know you are,” Mark responds, fondly. “Breakfast on the road, then?”(Alternatively, Jeno gets his driving license, Mark is in love, and the road ahead is infinite for the two of them.)
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Mark Lee
Comments: 7
Kudos: 72





	stronger than a 90's trend

**Author's Note:**

> today is my 21st birthday, therefore i gift you a road trip au straight out of jeno's wildest dreams. 
> 
> beware of extremely fond and disgustingly in love markno. you have been warned!!! also, un-betaed, i shall come back to fix typos later. <3
> 
> (title from ms. taylor swift's "willow", naturally. is anyone surprised at all?)

_Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind_

_Head on the pillow, I could feel you sneakin' in_

_As if you were a mythical thing_

_Like you were a trophy or a champion ring_

_And there was one prize I'd cheat to win._

(Taylor Swift, “Willow”)

.

“Are you sure we’re in the right direction?”

Mark lowers the map, leaving it on his lap as he looks at Jeno. “ _Yes_ , Lee Jeno,” he replies exasperatedly. “I know how to read maps, okay?”

“I didn’t say you didn’t know how to read them,” Jeno laughs, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. It’s a hot day outside, the round sunglasses he had stolen from Mark last summer slipping down the slope of his nose every once in a while, all windows open and his shirt — that he has _also_ stolen from Mark — unbuttoned, thin white tank top underneath. “I’m just asking if we didn’t take the wrong exit around two miles ago. I have a weird feeling about this.”

Mark rolls his eyes, using a hand to smooth down the map — with all the wind, it started crumpling in his hands. “No, I’m 100% sure that we’re doing good. Maybe you’re just having a stomachache from all those corn dogs, y’know, the ones I explicitly told you not to eat.”

“Why would I worry about that?” Jeno snorts softly. “I have you to kiss it better for me.”

“Yeah, right. Dreaming _is_ free of charge, I suppose.”

“Haha. Weren’t we supposed to find a town by now, though? Doyoung said we’d find a town.”

“I...” Mark inhales a sharp breath, bringing the map to eye level. “No. Actually, I think Doyoung is trippin’. It comes with age, no offense to my lovely in-law, though. Just keep driving.”

And so Jeno does. Mark looks out the window — here, the scenery is so different from the city. Just plains and mountains here and there, the eventual small town and gas stations that look straight out of comic books, not creepy enough to give him the chills, but weird enough to leave him thinking about what could have been of them had Jeno spent five minutes more thinking about which chocolate bar to buy.

The wind catches up, causing the map to fly right at his face, and Jeno is laughing as he extends a hand to hold Mark’s own, out of habit. He just does that whenever he feels like it, like he can’t fathom the idea of not holding onto something — usually, that something is Mark. The later crumples the map in his free hand — fuck it — and lets out a sigh, rubbing at Jeno’s knuckles with his thumb. “I can’t wait to get there,” Mark tells him. “My back hurts so much from sitting here, I feel like I could sleep for the entire week.”

Jeno pouts. Before he can say anything about it, Mark adds: “But I won’t do that. Instead, I’ll be kicking your butt in the ocean every day, angel face.”

“You don’t even know how to surf, not even with ‘em kiddy boards,” Jeno points out. Mark scoffs, that’s only a _detail_. He could learn, he _will_ learn. And when he learns, he’ll be better than Jeno for sure. “It doesn’t have to be a competition. We can just chill.”

Mark makes a face. Jeno laughs. They drive past a big sign pointing to cities that Mark didn’t see in the map, and he groans as he lets go of Jeno’s hand to take a look at the map again. “So, about me not knowing how to read maps…” he mutters, turning it upside down, frowning, and back to how it looked like before. “No, listen, _I'm_ definitely trippin'. How about we make a stop?”

“Where, though?” Jeno motions with a hand. “We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“Exactly, so there’s no pig around to give you a ticket. Just stop right here.”

He jumps out of the jeep as soon as it parks on the side of the road. It feels so good to stretch his legs after so many hours, and Mark lets out a big sigh as he settles the map on top of the car’s hood.

With a small chuckle, Jeno comes up behind him, resting his chin on Mark’s shoulder. Of course he thinks getting lost in the middle of nowhere is funny. Mark tries to elbow him on the ribs but Jeno wraps a hand around his arm and stops him, so he only sighs and leans over the map to inspect it. “I think we did a stupid even before that exit,” he says.

Jeno hums as he lets go of him, also leaning over the map. He traces their supposed path with a finger and taps a certain location. “We stopped at a gas station around here. I think that instead of going here—” he traces a road on the map. “We took this other road here.”

Mark closes his eyes for a second, groaning. “God, that was _three hours_ ago. It’s going to take forever to get there, I’m— I’m sorry. I fucked up, it’s on me.”

“What?” Jeno leans back. One of his hands came up to squeeze at Mark’s shoulder familiarly. “No, it’s fine, I should’ve realized we were going in the wrong direction too. It’s no big deal, doll. Consider it an adventure still.”

He doesn’t reply straight away, so Jeno knocks their hips together playfully, and Mark has to bite back a smile as he climbs back to the passenger seat. Three months ago, when Jeno called him announcing that he finally got his driver’s license and would be taking him to a road trip like he promised Mark so many years ago, he didn’t expect they’d end up like this. They’ve been on the road for what seems like forever, listening to the mixtapes Mark had made especially for the occasion, munching on snacks, and arguing over their favorite The X Files episodes and what movies they still have to watch before the next millennium comes around — just another casual evening for them, but it’s different. Somehow, Mark feels as if it’s different. So he sits back, pulls his knees to his chest and rests his cheek on them, watching as Jeno drives.

Everything about him is somehow a little bit about Mark. He’s not even talking about his clothes, which Jeno stole, or their taste in music, or junk food preference — it’s more than that. Jeno is a mirror and has always been, but he’s been growing into himself recently, their similarities no longer something other people point out, but settling as tiny things that keep Mark awake at night, in fear he’s the only one that still notices, in fear that Jeno will stop noticing, too. It’s stupid, of course, and very silly of him, but still, sitting here and watching him, Mark can’t help but wonder.

“What are you staring at?” Jeno asks, looking at him with the corner of his eye. “Got something on my face?”

“Yeah,” Mark replies. “ _Your face_. It’s been bugging me all my life, can you do something about it, please? I can’t take it any longer.”

Jeno rolls his eyes. Of course, all the teasing in the world means nothing — Mark would never willingly say something to hurt him. He’d sooner end himself before that. So when Jeno extends a hand, blindly, Mark reaches out and takes it, holding it tight between his own two, rubbing thumbs over each of Jeno’s knuckles as if they were to tell him a story. He’ll always wait patiently to hear.

The sun starts to set a while after the realization of their mistake, but at least they’re in the right direction now. Mark convinces him to stop at a motel because he doesn’t want Jeno to be driving for so long, he’s not used to it, despite Jeno’s protests. They spend about twenty minutes arguing whether it is safe or not to leave their things in the car, and then Jeno triumphantly carries the surfboards upstairs while Mark regrets his own life choices as he realizes how heavy his bag is.

“This bed is _so_ nice,” Jeno announces after a shower, throwing himself on top of the bed, arms crossed behind his bed. “You can sleep on the floor, I bet it’s comfortable, too.”

“Haha, very funny,” Mark responds from where he’s, indeed, sitting on the floor, one of their bags on his lap. He was just trying to find his toothbrush, but picks one of Jeno’s shirts and uses it to whip at his feet, hanging from the edge of the bed. Jeno lets out a wail, sitting up. “Talking as if you’re not like, _dying_ to cuddle me or something. I’m onto you, angel face. I know all of your little secrets.”

Jeno rolls on his stomach, crossing arms right on the edge of the bed and resting his chin on them. “ _All_ of them?” he asks with one eyebrow raised. Mark nods. “Huh. What else do you know, smartass?”

“I know, for a fact...” Mark fumbles through the bag a little more, then picks up a pair of pants. “... That you actually raided my part of the closet. I’ve been looking for this for _months_ , and it was you all along? It doesn’t even fit you, Jeno.”

“I think it’s comfortable,” he laughs, hiding his face on the crook of his elbow. “It looks a little ridiculous at the ankles, I must admit, but it’s comfortable.”

Mark sighs, dropping the piece of clothing back to the bag, and pushes it off himself so he can climb on the bed with him. Jeno is still laughing as he rolls on his back. “What else did you steal from me, hm?” Mark asks, hands on both sides of his head. “My sunglasses, my _actual_ _reading_ glasses, my shirt, my pants, my bandanas, my heart, my favorite side of the bed, and I bet even my underwear,” Jeno scrunches up his nose. “No? Still use your own? Now, _that’s_ surprising.”

“Why?” Jeno asks. His hands skirt up Mark’s sides, tickling, and it takes all of his strength not to fall on top of him. “Got another boy to steal your underwear, is that it? Should I be worried? Should I—” he lets out a fake gasp, trying to get up. “—leave?”

Mark shakes his head negatively as he presses a hand down to Jeno’s chest and finds a comfortable place for himself in between his legs, lowering himself onto his elbows. If Jeno’s truly worried, he doesn’t act like it, cupping Mark’s face between his hands and sighing into a kiss that hasn’t even happened yet — his lips land on the corner of Mark’s mouth, wanting.

“No, there’s no need to worry,” Mark whispers. “You know, for me, it’s always you — my personal thief since I was 14.”

“You said I could take anything I wanted, can’t take it back now,” Jeno whispers, leaning in once more.

This time they actually kiss, very slow and languidly, and there about a billion things Mark would give up in the blink of an eye in exchange for time to slow down, to forget them for a while, so he could stay right here. Jeno’s hands in his hair, his mouth hot against the skin of Jeno’s neck, just the way they both like it, just the way it’s supposed to be.

.

"Do you mean this?"

"Obviously," Mark replies, exasperated. His hand is all clammy where they're holding onto Jeno's, and he has the guts to doubt him? "Why would I fuck around with something so important? I want you to steal my shirts forevermore. Jeno, do you want to be my—"

"I heard it the first time," Jeno adds quickly. His face is all flushed red, most probably because of the beers he had sneaked in his bag, but Mark would like to believe it's because of him, because he sure as hell is blushing because of Jeno. "Yes. _Yes_. What the hell. I thought you’d never ask."

"Good. I mean, um, I was waiting for the right moment," he squeezes Jeno's hand and looks down to where the people are barely visible — he's never been to a ferris wheel this big. "I— I don’t know what to say anymore."

Jeno lets go of his hand and holds onto the lapels of his jacket — Mark wants to scold him for letting go of the safety rail, but he can't do that, because Jeno is kissing him. On the mouth. With intention. They're not fucking around anymore, like two dumb teenagers. They're—

"You're my boyfriend," Jeno whispers against his mouth. His eyelashes tickle Mark's cheeks. "Say it so I know you know it's true."

A giggle erupts from Mark's chest. Jeno holds onto his jacket tighter. "I'm your— I'm your boyfriend," he stutters. "I'm all yours, angel face. Always have been." Always will be. Would it be enough if I never gave you peace?”

Jeno leans back, nodding. “That’s more than enough for me.” He brings a hand to Mark’s face, thumb brushing against his cheekbone. “I wouldn’t dare to live any other way.”

.

In the morning, the sunlight filtering through a gap between the curtains hurts Mark’s eyes, and he turns around in Jeno’s hold to shield himself from it. The latter doesn’t wake up, but his eyelids flutter just slightly, and Mark brushes an eyelash off his cheek with a thumb, leaning in to press a kiss to Jeno’s lips. He has no idea what time it is, but they should leave soon if they want to make it to their final destination in time for dinner.

“Hey, you,” he whispers, and Jeno sighs in his sleep. “C’mon, wake, we have to leave soon.”

Jeno lets out a long groan, tightening his hold around Mark’s body. Usually, it takes about an hour to wake him up, but Mark can’t have that today. He pats Jeno’s cheek lightly. “Angel, c’mon, let’s get going.”

“Just five more minutes, doll,” Jeno mutters in return. “Or five more hours.”

Mark rolls his eyes, pinching at the skin of his neck. Jeno cracks an eye open, and lets go of him only so that he can hold onto Mark’s hand, to prevent him from inflicting future harm. “Didn’t you say you wanted to get to the beach while the sun was still up?” Mark asks. He sets his hand free and starts rubbing the sleep off Jeno’s eyes for him, cleaning his fingers on Jeno’s own shirt. “God, you big baby. The things I do for you.”

“I didn’t _ask_ you to do that for me,” Jeno retorts. He lets out a big sigh, opening both of his eyes, and Mark can’t help but reach out to run fingers through his hair, trying to smooth down where it’s sticking up at the back. He asks:

“Want me to drive today?”

Jeno jumps in his hold, almost knocking them both off the bed. “No!” he exclaims, sitting up, and Mark can’t help but start laughing. “I said I’d take you to the beach, I’m taking you to the beach. I’m true to my words.”

“I know you are,” Mark responds, fondly. “Breakfast on the road, then?”

Jeno nods excitedly, and he’s jumping off the bed in a second. It takes very little time to gather all their stuff, even if Jeno does a double check to see if they’ve forgotten something. Getting on the road takes longer — Mark presses him up against the jeep’s door in the half empty parking lot and kisses him silly, which leaves Jeno in a good mood for the rest of the morning, humming along to the songs on the radio as he drives.

“I was thinking,” Mark comments, brushing bread crumbs off the map on his lap. He’s got his feet up the console, barefoot — his shoes are lost somewhere in the backseat. “I got a flyer from the motel and there’s a nice place to have lunch that I think we should check out. We’d have to stray from our path a little, but it would be nice. We could eat _crab_.”

Jeno laughs. “Mark, we’re so ahead of schedule, we should’ve gotten there _yesterday_.”

“Come on!” Mark exclaims, turning to him. “What’s a tiny little detour? It’s an adventure.”

“We can have seafood when we actually get to the beach — there’ll be plenty of it for sure.”

“But they have _the best_ crab in the country,” Mark arguments, pulling the flyer off the pocket of his shorts. “Like, come on. They give people _crowns_ , you know, because we’re gonna eat _king crab_. I want to have it so bad.”

Jeno shakes his head, though he’s smiling. Mark knows he can get away with this, he just has to push a little further. “I didn’t even know you liked crab,” Jeno says. “Thought you were afraid of lobsters. Aren’t you afraid of lobsters?”

“Yes, because they never stop growing, but—” Mark tries to shove the flyer into his face. Jeno bats his face away because of driving safety, clearly, and Mark sighs audibly. “But crabs _aren’t_ lobsters, Jeno. Have you failed your Biology classes? I can’t believe that. I’m _shocked_.”

 _Mark_ failed his Biology classes, every year. Jeno didn’t. The both of them stare at each other for a bit before bursting out laughing.

“ _Fine_ ,” Jeno sighs once the laughter subdues. “But you’re going to break my crab legs for me.”

“I’ll even feed you,” Mark tells him. “No, I’ll really do it. You’ll don’t have to worry about a thing, angel. I got you.”

And lunch _is_ good. It’s really enjoyable. Mark breaks crab legs for him and cleans the sauce that drips down Jeno’s chin as he eats — nothing he has never done before. Growing up, they’d always be like this. Jeno is a messy eater anyway, and Mark has always been more worried about making sure he has eaten his fill than eating himself. He stacks their ridiculous paper crowns on top of Jeno’s head and takes pictures of him with a disposable camera that he bought the last time they stopped for gas.

This part of the country, it’s beautiful. Mark should take pictures of it too, but he thinks his model is so much more interesting — later on, when they go back home, Jeno is going to complain about it. But Mark has never taken pictures of the scenery and he won’t stop now, he thinks as he clicks the shutter once more, just as Jeno leans back against the hood of the jeep to lick at his ice cream.

“The lady inside, she said there are good places to rent ten miles northeast from here,” Mark tells him as he approaches him. “I know it isn't ideal, but wouldn't it be so cute if we had a place to ourselves instead of a hotel?"

Jeno hums in agreement, and Mark leans in and sneakily licks a long stripe of his ice cream. Jeno pushes him off and he laughs. “What about all that _sharing everything_ bullshit you were on about the other day at Donghyuck’s?” Mark asks. “I thought ice creams were part of the package.”

“We’re not married,” Jeno responds, the tips of his ears red. _Not yet_ , Mark thinks. When Jeno sighs and offers him the rest of his ice cream, he eats without guilt. “And I was talking about other things, like, _underwear—_ ”

“Yeah, okay, now you're just obsessed with me,” Mark pats his chest. “Let’s get back on the road, weirdo.”

Jeno nods, cleaning his hands on his pants. He still doesn’t let Mark drive; of course, it’s Doyoung’s car, so he feels awfully responsible for it, but he could catch a break, and maybe Mark can drive on the way back home. When they were younger, Jeno _really_ wanted to get a license, but never got around to do so — both of them were always catching a ride with Renjun, anyway, and Mark never had a car so it’s not like he could drive Jeno anywhere.

But now… Now, it’s different. Mark can’t get enough of watching him, his silly little smile as he drives, the way he’d been promising to take Mark to the beach for years, and now he can actually do it. Isn’t that so nice?

Well, it almost, _almost_ slips from Mark’s lips — he catches his words before they make a mess.

"Alright, we're almost there," Jeno comments. "I can't _wait_ to catch some waves."

"Catch the waves?" Mark snorts. "Is that all you think about?"

Jeno looks at, lips pressed to a thin. "Well, _no_ , I'm…" he shrugs, looking at the road ahead. "I'm really glad to be here with you."

"Even if I got us lost?"

"Told you, it's not your fault," he reaches out, searching for Mark's hand. Instead of just holding it, Jeno brings his hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of it. "First road trip of many."

It's a good thing that Mark's been sitting on the passenger seat for hours, because his legs turn to jelly on the spot. He flicks Jeno on the nose and then turns his face to the window to hide a smile. _The first of many._

.

Mark licks the icing of the cake from his finger lazily, his entire body shaking as the bus goes through the bumpy road that leads to his grandmother's house. By his side, Jeno hums along to a song playing on his Walkman.

"When I have a car," Jeno comments, a little too loudly. "I'm never gonna be late for anything."

Mark laughs. He gets a bit more of the icing and offers it to him — Jeno's cheeks are red as he licks his finger clean, and Mark leans in to press a kiss cheek.

This is new. This is something they've been doing. It's 1993, baby. Everybody's kissing their guy best friends in 1993, everybody’s meeting up behind the mall, everybody’s cancelling their plans just in case they call.

"Weren't you supposed to get your permit, like, last year?"

"Yeah, and I failed at my test," Jeno pouts. “I’ll try again in a few months.”

Mark scoffs. "Loser."

Jeno reaches out and turns his snapback around only so that he can tug it down his face childishly. Since Mark is holding Taeyong's cake, he can't fix it, so he just stays like that for a while before Jeno takes pity on him, like he always does when he's a meanie to Mark.

"When I have a car," Jeno repeats. "I'll take you on a road trip."

"Yeah?" Mark smiles, looking out of the bus' window only so that Jeno won't see him blush. He's seventeen until next month, he doesn't know anything. "To where, handsome?"

"Anywhere you like." He leans into Mark's side, whispering: "And then you can thank me with a kiss — a real one this time."

Yeah, maybe Jeno doesn't know anything either. Mark hums. "First you gotta graduate, dude. Then we'll talk."

"Okay," Jeno nods. "But don't go looking at other guys. I'm almost there."

He laughs. "Wouldn't even dream of it."

.

"This is a safety hazard for my allergies." Jeno says. “I want to leave now.”

"It’s exquisite," Mark suggests. "It's unique. It's got a charm to it. I think it's an _adventure_. Weren't you looking for an adventure? I packed hundreds of antihistamines for you."

Jeno rests his head on his surfboard, groaning. They've been standing in front of the house for what feels like ages. Well, not a house — a cabin, maybe. "It's a shack," Jeno says. "Jaemin's bathroom is bigger than this. I can't believe we even listened to that fisherman at the store who said he knew a place — he was _at least_ a hundred years old, and so is this house."

"How ageist of you," Mark responds before he starts moving, fumbling with the keys in his hands as he tries to find the right one for the shack. "What, are you gonna dump me when I'm 70? I think old people are great, and you adore my grandma." Mark successfully unlocks the door. "Come in, Jen, this is home for the following week of our lives."

"Well, granny is amazing for sure." Jeno grunts as he follows him. The surfboard he's carrying knocks against the furniture inside, and Mark turns around to send him a look. "What? You said come in, I'm coming in."

The cabin, well, the _shack_ is lovely, in Mark's opinion. The inside is better than the outside, and even Jeno has to agree — the painted blue wood of the walls, the rattan chairs, the little sea themed decorations here and there. There's a small kitchen, a table for two, and what Mark assumes to be a sofa-bed. The door on the back leads to a small garden, and there's even a hammock.

Mark loves it. He drops their bags near the sofa-bed and turns to Jeno with a smile.

"So?"

"I’m glad I bought sheets at the store, because I'm definitely not sleeping in those," Jeno says, and Mark crosses the living room to poke him on the stomach repeatedly. He bites back a laugh. "Okay, yes, it's not a 5 star hotel, but it's decent. It's—" he bats Mark's hands away. "It's lovely, okay? I said it's lovely! I mean, look at that— look at that _fish_ on the wall, it's… Great. _Love_ fish."

Mark nods, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. "Maybe you can design us a house on the beach in the future. I want plenty of fish on the walls, so don't forget it."

"You want—" Jeno breathes out. "Okay. Yeah, I'll remember that."

"Good," Mark smiles. "Let's unpack, then. Wanna go for a midnight swim?"

Jeno takes a look at his wristwatch — a gift from Mark’s grandmother, for his birthday —, and frowns. “It’s not even dinnertime. We have to—” he looks up, mouth hanging open. “Oh. I get it. Yeah, sure.”

Smiling, Mark pecks him on the cheek once more before finally beginning his tasks. He unpacks their things, puts the food inside the cabinets in the small kitchen, and watches as Jeno struggles with the sofa-bed before taking pity on him and helping him out — it feels a lot like when they moved in together, about a year before. Sure, Mark had his fun while being roommates with Donghyuck for most of his college experience, and every time he saw Jeno was the perfect excuse for a date, but after graduating, he _really_ just wanted to settle down. Nothing will ever top what he felt watching as Jeno set up their IKEA bed on his own, but this comes very close to it.

First times, right? They’re always so special. Mark smooths down the sheets almost tenderly, laughing at the way Jeno rubs at his own nose, throwing the old sheets on the floor with disgust. “These were last changed when pirates still wandered around in the sea,” he announces. “I can feel it in my bones, the memory of them.”

“In your bones, or in that cute little nose of yours?” Mark teases.

“Shut up,” Jeno kicks at the old sheets. “I’m gonna go get my antihistamines and maybe take a shower, please get rid of these before I come back.”

Well, Mark can’t exactly get rid of them, so he just tucks them in a cabinet that he knows Jeno won’t snoop around and calls it a day. He remains kneeling on the floor, observing as Jeno fumbles around one of their bags, bottom lip worried between his teeth.

Once the shower starts running, and waits until Jeno closes the door to the bathroom so he can quickly crawl on the floor and pull the very same bag to his lap, going through the clothes like a madman. Of course, Jeno made a mess out of it looking for his antihistamines, and Mark has to take out all of the clothes because what if Jeno had _seen—_

Oh, okay. It’s fine, it’s cool. Mark sighs audibly as he pats the socks in which he had buried a tiny box — Jeno is far too grossed out by Mark’s socks to ever snoop around here. He’s safe.

Satisfied with himself, Mark gets up and decides to put all their clothing inside a dresser near the bed, because why not — granted, he cleans it before doing that, but even then it takes an awful lot of time for Jeno to leave the shower. Mark does consider joining him, but opts for chilling in the hammock outside.

There will be plenty of time for them to do whatever. The road ahead, it is infinite for the two of them — Mark has to press his hands to his face and do a little breathing exercise because his heart is beating so loud inside his chest, it actually hurts. He can't have a heart attack today, can't have a heart attack before Jeno gets to surf because he's been talking about it for years, can't have a heart attack before Mark gets the chance to do what _he's_ been meaning to for weeks, no, for months—

"Hey," Jeno calls from where he's leaning against the doorstep, holding out his cellphone to him. Mark forgot his own at home, naturally. "Taeyong called, wanna call him back?"

Mark groans and doesn't take the phone. "Hell no! I don't want to think about _work_ right now. He's probably just gon' talk about dad retiring, me growing into his shoes, yada yada yada…" Sighing, Mark motions to the space ahead of them, the beautiful sunset and the glimpses of the ocean in between the trees. "I'm on a break. _We_ are on a break. Let's throw your phone in the sea so no one can bother us."

Jeno holds his Nokia close to his chest. "Yeah, we ain't doing that. It's not good for the environment. But I'll leave it on mute if it makes you feel better."

Humming, Mark opens his arms. "Fine for me. Now, come here, please?"

Jeno eyes him suspiciously. "Thought we were supposed to make dinner now?" he asks. "Besides, you didn't even shower."

"Why should I? We're going swimming later."

"And you're going to _kill_ all those poor, innocent fish in the sea with your smelly feet—"

Mark stumbles out of the hammock, and Jeno is laughing as he runs back inside the house. There aren't any hiding spots, naturally, so Mark just corners him against the counter in the kitchen and brings his hands to Jeno's sides, tickling him.

"What did you say?" Mark asks, to which Jeno lets out a squeal in surprise, trying to push him off. "That I'm smelly? Do I smell? Do you _really_ think so?"

Jeno presses his lips into a fine line, nodding. He's trying hard not to laugh. Mark slides both hands under his shirt, pressing his palms against skin that's still warm from the shower, and lets out a sigh himself when Jeno leans in to peck him in the mouth.

"We really need dinner," he says.

"I know, I have some suggestions," Mark responds, and Jeno hums for him to continue. "I'll let you come up with an entrée, but as a main course, I'd like to have _you_ —"

Jeno pinches him on the neck. "I mean it, Mark."

He nods, leaning in to kiss his jaw. "I'm dead serious too, angel."

Honestly, Jeno can't blame him for it, not when he looks like this — Mark's favorite dress shirt hangs from his shoulders like that's its rightful place, his skin warm and pink from the shower, damp hair falling softly over his forehead. As it always has been, Mark wants to drop to his knees and either ask for forgiveness or thank the Lord that Jeno exists, and that he exists in Mark's life, of all things.

And do some other things, too. He thumbs at Jeno's hip bones, pressing their lips together, and his reverie lasts for about five seconds, Jeno pushing him off before his hands can wander any lower.

"Dinner," he says decidedly. "As in, _actual food_. Go set the table.”

Mark lets out a fake sob.

.

Jeno lets out a small sigh from where he’s standing in front of Mark’s wardrobe. He’s asked about it a million times, and Mark said it’s fine a million times plus one, but he’s still muttering under his breath about how bad he feels for committing consensual theft.

"Just take whatever you like," Mark repeats. "I don't wear half the clothes I own. But you can have the ones I wear, too. I don't mind."

He goes back to his book, and Jeno goes back to going through his drawers, his cheeks flushed pink. He's already wearing one of Mark's flannels anyway, and Mark knows for a fact that he already has many other pieces of clothing that once belonged to him.

If his mother noticed the missing clothes, she doesn't comment — she adores Jeno, anyway. Everyone around this house does, from Mark to his mom and to his dad and to Taeyong and to their dog. The dog absolutely loves Jeno, and Mark thinks they're long lost siblings. Jeno isn't very fond of the idea. _Comparing me to a dog!_ , he scoffs. _And here I thought you called me your other half._

Anyway, soulmates or not, Mark stil wishes he could see the way he shakes his head after going into the pool, it's the same damn thing.

"What do you wanna do today?" Mark asks him once Jeno throws himself on the bed by his side. He lets his book fall to the side and runs his fingers through Jeno's hair, freshly cut. "We could go out, show off this hair of yours. Bet you could finally find yourself a Betty."

Jeno rolls his eyes, batting his hand away as he sits up. "Eat my shorts, Mark."

"What?" he asks. "Did I say something wrong?"

Jeno shrugs, scratching at his arm over the flannel, and Mark watches him for a while before he sits up, too, resting a hand on Jeno's shoulder. "I'm sorry I said that," he whispers. "You don't have to— not even _I_ want a girlfriend right now. I have better shit to do. I was just messing with you."

"What if…" Jeno lets out an awkward cough. "What if I don't want a girlfriend? I mean, girls are… Rad and all, and I _like_ them, I really do, but what if I—"

He cuts himself short. Mark nudges him on the ribs.

"No, it's just—" Jeno shakes his head. "Forget it. Everybody already thinks I'm a freak. I don't wanna add fuel to the fire by saying… Things. It's dumb."

"What the fuck?" Mark frowns. He squeezes at Jeno's shoulder. "Yo, don't you _ever_ say that shit to me again. Don't you ever _think_ of that again."

With a sigh, Jeno let's his head fall to Mark's shoulder as he brings his knees to his chest, arms encircling his legs. Still quite mad, Mark drapes an arm around him protectively.

"Not a freak," he says quietly. "Fuck everybody who ever made you feel like that. They don't deserve to have you in their shitty lives."

"Not everybody is as nice as you, dude," Jeno mutters. "Not everybody is as nice as, like, your parents. Some people just don't get it, and they never will."

"Yeah, and fuck 'em for that. You— _we_ gotta surround ourselves with people that love us. Not people that tolerate us. People that love us, that cherish us," Mark takes a deep breath. "And if we can't find those people right now, at least we have each other for the time being. We're never alone. I know it's hard to remember that sometimes, but I'll remind you. I swear I will."

Jeno nods. He leans into his touch, wrapping his arms around Mark's body tightly, and Mark presses a kiss to the top of his head in return. No more words needed for now.

.

The sea at night is nice.

When Mark was a kid, he used to think it was terrifying. All that water and no light, just the sound of the waves, just the feeling of your feet brushing against the seashells and algae, the weight of your heart in the water different from anywhere else in the world. But now, _now_ the moonlight shines over the water, paints the waves silver, and he's no longer afraid. How could he be?

"You're awful quiet," Jeno tells him. He'd been observing Mark until now, hidden by the water with only his eyes and nose peeking out — when he emerges, he sends a splash of water in Mark's direction. "And you say _I'm_ boring."

"I never say you're boring," Mark points out. "I've never said that. Never _thought_ that, by the way."

Visibly pleased with the revelation, Jeno swims closer, and Mark reaches out with both hands to slick his hair back, then cups his cheeks. They both stay silent for a while, and Mark's voice cracks as he asks: "What's it like to grow up this beautiful?"

Jeno’s mouth falls open slightly, eyes widened, and then he smiles sweetly, splashing water onto Mark once again. “You’re so silly,” he responds in a whisper. “What’s it like being just so silly?”

Dropping his hands to Jeno’s shoulders, Mark shrugs. He’s not surprised when Jeno captures his mouth in a kiss, but lets out a gasp when Jeno’s hands slide down his side and pull them flush together. His skin is salty where Mark kisses it, lips against his cheek, against his jaw, but he can’t do much before Jeno leans in and bites down on his shoulder playfully.

"So, all that talk about—" Mark leans to press his cheek to the side of Jeno's head. "—actual food was bullshit, right? You’re a hypocrite."

"We _had_ dinner, and it was great because I’m a great cook," Jeno replies, matter-of-factly. Despite the coldness of the water, his hands trace a burning path on Mark's back, his waist, his thighs. They never stop wandering, these hands of his. Then again, whether Mark should thank the Lord or ask for forgiveness— "Also, in my defense, the moon is full and we have been left unsupervised."

In Mark's defense, he has none. He's always loved kissing Jeno, has always loved touching him, being touched by him — some things never change, truly. But they're no longer teenagers locked in the room Jeno used to share with his brother, giggling under the covers, turned on by the thrill of possibly getting caught. No, they're years past that, every press of Jeno's fingers familiar, open mouthed kisses like coming home — it's much, much better.

Sighing, he looks up — the moon is full, indeed. The fisherman from earlier said they'd probably have that small beach to themselves, usually, people prefer hiking through the woods to find larger beaches, with restaurants and such. Mark smiles to himself, he thinks this is just fine.

His feet leave the seabed for a second and he rests his hands on Jeno's shoulders, startled. "What are you doing?" he asks.

"Nothing," Jeno responds against his jaw. though he keeps his hands on the back of Mark's thighs, keeping their chests pressed together.

He doesn't realize they're moving until Jeno lowers him to the ground, cold wet sand against his back, the waves hitting his thighs gently. “Hypocrite,” Mark tells him. “Wolf in sheep’s clothing. How do you even sleep at night?”

“I dream of you,” Jeno replies cheesily, holding himself up on his elbows. Mark groans loudly, closing his eyes only so that he won’t look at him, and Jeno laughs, leaning in to kiss him.

They should go back inside, probably — there’s a rock staircase in the backyard that leads to a small trail, it’s a four minute walk to the secluded beach. They could go home and shower and have fun where there aren’t any mosquitoes, but when has Mark ever been able to make Jeno change his mind? He cups his face adoringly, he kisses him sweetly, he feels as if he was seventeen and daring to kiss him on Jeno’s doorstep late at night. Things weren’t easy back then, and they’re still far from being the easiest, but _now_ — now Mark doesn’t care about it. He can let himself forget about it for a while.

“I love you,” Jeno tells him between kisses, loud and clear. When Mark opens his eyes and looks up at him, he’s smiling. “I have loved you since day one. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Mark nods. “Yeah, I know. ‘Cause I’ve loved you from the start, too.”

.

Mark tugs at his mother’s shirt once more, looking at her with pleading eyes, but she’s far too concentrated in the conversation with her friends to notice. Granted, it’s Christmas, and all the adults are sipping on red wine, to match with their flushed faces, and all they care about now is each other. He sighs and takes a look at where he’s supposed to be — the kids’ area, something one of his mother’s coworkers came up, but all the children are far younger than him and he’s not going to babysit, thank you.

He tugs at her shirt again. She turns to him and cups his face with a hand. “Mark, why don’t you be a dear and go play with your friends for a bit? We’ll be able to eat soon, honey.”

His mother has failed to realize that he doesn’t want to eat, he wants to go home and play with the Game Boy his father got him this morning. “But they’re all babies,” he whispers. “Can I go sit with Taeyong?”

“Dear…” his mother gives him a look. “You know how it is.”

Of course, no one thinks he can hang out with Taeyong. His older brother has better things to do than look after Mark, just like Mark has better things to do than look after his mother’s coworkers’ kids. It’s the circle of life: the older you are, the less you want to look after the little ones, but he knows that Taeyong is different. His friends are always nice to him. But he doesn’t even know where Taeyong is — Mark doesn’t know who this house belongs to, has never been here before. These people don’t even have a video game in the living room, well, if they _do_ , they chose to make him suffer and took it away. As expected of adults.

“I’m gonna go outside,” he says, then.

“Stay away from the pool, it’s too cold,” his mother boops him on the nose. He rolls his eyes. “Be a dear, Mark. It’s Christmas.”

“Okay,” he replies, and she ruffles his hair before he steps away, complaining under his breath because come on, he spent so much time trying to style in a way that didn’t scream _kiddo_ or something.

Naturally, Taeyong is sitting outside with his friends — Mark is buzzing with excitement from being near older and cooler guys, and he’s lucky that Taeyong doesn’t have a mean bone in his body, he opens his arms as soon as Mark approaches him, but Mark doesn’t miss the way he threw a cigarette behind his head. “Don’t tell mom, okay, buddy?” Taeyong whispers in his ear. He nods, and turns to Taeyong’s friends timidly.

“Yo, Mark, lookin’ fly today!” exclaims Johnny. Mark idolizes him. He feels his cheeks reddening at the spot. “Those sneakers are hella cool.”

Taeyong nudges him on the ribs when he doesn’t reply. “Thank you,” Mark blurts out, and tries to imitate the way Johnny has his arms crossed, leaning against the garden fence. Then, Taeyong and his friends resume talking and smoking, and though Mark doesn’t get half the things they’re saying, he feels so cool to be hanging out with them. He looks down proudly at the sneakers that Taeyong got him for Christmas — see, Mark’s older brother is the _best_.

He eyes the other guys curiously. There’s Kun, whom Mark is already familiar with because he’s tutored Mark in Math for years, and others that he has only ever heard of — like Taeil, son of someone their father works with, and Yuta, who apparently is crashing the Christmas party. _How cool_ , Mark thinks. His gaze then falls to another figure, a guy sitting on the bench nearest the pool, and he’s got his chin propped up on a hand before he notices Mark looking. The guy waves to him and motions for him to come closer.

Timidly, Mark does so. “You’re TY’s little brother, right?” the guys asks. He extends a hand, and Mark shakes it as he nods. “I’m Doyoung. Why are you here all alone? Thought there were other kids inside.”

“I’m 14, I don’t hang out with babies,” Mark tells proudly.

“Well, if that’s the case,” he points upwards, and Mark looks up at a particular window in the house. “My brother is around your age and he’s upstairs. He’s been playing Mario alone all night.”

Mark’s eyes widen. “ _You_ have a brother?”

“I do, and his name is Jeno,” Doyoung smiles at him. “We're new in town, so I bet he could use a friend. Want me to take you to meet him?”

He nods excitedly. Inside the house, his mother sends him a questioning look, but another woman squeezes her arm and whispers something in her ear, so she sends him a thumbs up and he sends one back. See, Mark _could_ be causing a scene during Christmas, but instead, Doyoung will find him a friend his age, she should be grateful for it.

They stop in front of a door upstairs. Strangely, it’s pink, but it’s alright, Mark thinks it’s a lovely shade. Doyoung scratches his own cheek, lips pressed together for a moment.

“Hi, it’s me,” Doyoung says loudly as he knocks, finally.

“Doie?” a voice responds from inside. Mark is positively trying not to jump on his feet from excitement, because he can’t wait to play Mario all night instead of dealing with them adults. "What's up?"

“I met someone today, I think you could be friends,” Doyoung waits for a moment before he adds: “Why don’t you open the door and come meet him? You’re not gonna believe the shirt he’s wearing.”

Granted, Mark’s mother was so mad that he decided to wear his Back To The Future shirt to a Christmas party, but that was his only condition in order to go. And he’s glad he did that, because it takes less than a second for the door to open just slightly, and one dark brown eye stares at Mark with curiosity.

“‘Sup!” he exclaims, smiling, and the eye widens before Doyoung gently pushes the door a bit more open. Mark holds his fist out. “I’m Mark. You’re Jeno, right?”

The boy smiles shyly at him, giving him a fist bump. They’re wearing the exact same shirt. “Yup, that’s me. I love your shirt.”

“I love yours,” Mark replies, obviously.

Jeno looks up at Doyoung with a smile before opening the door completely, then back at Mark. “C’mon, let’s play!” he exclaims, and extends a hand to him. Mark takes it.

.

He’s nervous, to say the least.

Don’t get him wrong — the trip is amazing through and through. They have fun, lots of it. They eat tons of seafood. They befriend old fishermen and hear their stories until they think they’ve lived them too. They hike every day, Mark’s legs covered in mosquito bites despite covering himself in bug repellent. They take pictures of each other with the portable camera, each worse than the other because Jeno doesn’t know how not to be a dork. They spend so much time in the sea that Mark’s blonde hair is starting to become a weird shade of green, but Jeno runs his fingers through it adoringly still. They surf, of course, Jeno surfs and Mark watches him, but sometimes they just sit in Jeno’s board and watch as the sun sets, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

But he’s nervous. Very much so. Mark has to splash water on his face in the bathroom sink because his cheeks are so red constantly, Jeno is starting to think he’s suffering from sunstroke and doesn’t want to tell him, which means he’s constantly looking after Mark, which means he doesn’t have time to… Make a move.

“I think I got everything,” Jeno says loudly from the kitchen. “We got fruit and sandwiches, I bought white wine, there’s also, like, tons of repellent and a _portable radio_ that I found here— yo, are you even _listening_ to me, doll?”

“Yes, I am,” Mark replies before splashing water on his face once more, just to make sure, and reaches for a towel. “Sorry, I was just… You should wait in the car! I’ll carry the basket, just gonna grab some more chips.”

Jeno lets out a long hum, and Mark waits until he’s disappeared through the door before rushing to the kitchen and shoving the small box inside the picnic basket. It’d be too noticeable in his pockets anyway, and Jeno is curious, and what if Mark _lost_ it. He takes a deep breath.

Okay. _Okay_. He’s doing this. He picks the basket up and heads outside.

Leaning back on the door to the driver seat, Jeno watches him over the rim of his sunglasses before pushing them up the bridge of his nose, and Mark can’t help but let out a nervous laugh because, what the hell, is this his boyfriend of years? Is this the man that Mark wants to— “Got something on my face?” Jeno asks.

“Yeah, your face,” Mark replies half-heartedly. Jeno flashes him a bright smile before he pushes himself off the car and reaches for the basket. “No, it’s fine, I’ll carry it. You can drive.”

Of course, Jeno is more than glad to do so. He hums along to the songs in one of Mark’s mixtapes, holds his hand the entire time. He has no idea what’s coming. Mark has to stop himself from smiling all the time because it’ll just give it away, so he resorts to a trip down memory lane, his feet up the seat.

“Do you remember—” Jeno lets out a giggle, pressing his knuckles to his mouth. “God. That one time with Doyoung’s fist girlfriend? When we crashed their date and it was a disaster?”

“When they got us lost in the amusement park?” Mark groans. “Your mom was _fuming.”_

“And Doie was having a phase, he was like “Take a chill pill, mom!” and I swear she was going to kill him when we got home. I was _this_ close to being an only child. We just don’t have fun like that anymore, I think.”

Mark laughs, resting a cheek on his knee. He observes the basket on the backseat with the corner of his eye. “Yeah, but we can have fun in other ways,” he looks up at Jeno. “Like, I’ve _got_ sand in places I shouldn’t have sand in because _someone..._ ” Jeno snorts. “Someone around here just can’t get enough of me.”

“Guilty as charged,” he shrugs. “Aight, we’re here. This is your last chance to admit you’re afraid of boats so we can find something else to do.”

“I’m _not_ afraid of boats,” Mark protests as he opens the car door and Jeno follows him. “Big ships, maybe, not gonna lie, but boats are cool. I trust boats. If shit goes south, I’ll just hop on your back and you can swim back to the shore, saving us both.”

“Thought you were the one who went to swimming classes, though? You I didn’t even get inside the water until—” Jeno motions to his chest.

Mark taps his cheek, humming. “I might have to reevaluate our survival plan, then.”

He’s not going to lie. Sometimes, when Mark thinks of himself, it’s difficult to tell which life story is truly his — most of his memories are like that, anyway. Did he take swim classes, or was that Jeno? Which one of them shaved their head first? If Jeno really broke a bone during high school, why does Mark have ghost pains in his left arm? When Jeno throws an arm around his shoulders, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek as they walk, he doesn’t know where he ends and Jeno starts.

“Here, let me carry that,” Jeno says, motioning for the basket.

Mark holds it out of his reach, which almost sends him out of balance. Jeno holds onto his arm with a frown. “It got it,” Mark smiles at him. “You drove here, I can carry it.”

“Yeah, but it’s a long hike to the beach,” Jeno reasons. “You’re clumsy, anyway. What if you drop it somewhere?”

He gasps. “ _I’m_ clumsy? _You_ almost fell from a cliff the other day because you wouldn’t look at where you were going.”

“‘Cause _you’re_ very distracting.”

Mark holds the basket behind his back, his chest bumping against Jeno’s when he tries to grab it. “I got it, angel,” he says decidedly. “Just lead the way, I’ll be right behind you.”

For some reason, Jeno seems very bothered by that idea, but shrugs and turns his back to him. Mark has no idea why _he’s_ so defensive about the goddamn picnic basket, anyway. He keeps looking back to where Mark is walking behind him on the hiking trail, to the point Mark just pokes his tongue out at him like a child and he rolls his eyes every time.

The boat was Jeno’s idea, of course, fueled by that one time he spent a summer in Donghyuck’s childhood home and came back claiming he knew how to steer any boat. One of the fishermen they met said they could rent one for themselves, spend some quality time in the sea or visit an island nearby, and Mark feels his hands shaking before boarding it — it’s got a nice deck and all, somewhere they can sit down and have lunch, but the cabin downstairs is nice, too. He was against the idea of sleeping on it, though, much to Jeno’s dismay. The sooner Mark gets both feet back to the shore, the better, but this is perfect for now.

“This is a good spot, isn’t it?” Jeno asks. Mark looks back at where they came from — they’re not in the middle of the sea, thankfully, but far enough to give them more privacy. The water here is crystalline, he can even spot fish and some sea turtles here and there.

“It’s perfect,” Mark responds, truthfully. Jeno gives him a thumbs up and sets the anchor.

Lunch is good. He realizes they could’ve used the kitchen space inside, but the idea of cleaning it afterwards is already tiring — Mark is glad they brought food, by all means. He treats Jeno to grapes and orange wedges as he struggles with the portable radio, his eyebrows furrowed. Then, once the music starts, they eat their sandwiches and look at the sea, shoulders pressed together like it’s always been.

Well, Mark looks at the sea. Jeno looks at him. It makes all the hair in Mark’s arms stand up.

“Got something on my face?” he mimics.

“You do, actually,” Jeno brushes his thumb under Mark’s bottom lip, wiping off a bit of mayo, and then licks it clean. “Big baby.”

“Shut up,” Mark grunts, nudging him on the side. He cleans his hands with a cloth and takes a sip of his wine, contemplating the right time to do, well. The thing. But the right time is never the _right_ right time, so fuck it. He’s been ready for this all his life. “Hey, angel face, do you remember the first time we went to the movies together?”

Jeno nods. “Back To The Future II, right after that Christmas party. It’s been almost ten years.” He lets out a chuckle. “You wanted a hoverboard so bad, you wouldn’t shut up about it.”

“Think we’ll ever get something like that?” Mark asks. “In the, um, in the future. Say. 2015. Hoverboards, drones, self-tying shoelaces?”

“Maybe?” Jeno laughs. “We’ll be too old for hoverboards when 2015 comes around, though.”

Mark watches as he takes a sip of his own drink, trying to engrave this image of Jeno in his mind forever. The sunglasses on top of his head, the slope of his nose, the mole near his eye, his open shirt moving with the breeze. They’ve known each other for ten years, and Mark has loved him since day one. He clears his throat. “So, hoverboards… Maybe that can happen. What about us, though?”

Jeno laughs, still looking out at the horizon. “Us? What do you mean?”

“I was just thinking,” Mark reaches out for the half-empty basket, trying to reach it smoothly without him realizing. He sneaks his hand inside, searches for it for a bit, and finally closes his fingers around the small box. “That, well, the future, it’s so _close_. It’s 1999. It’s the end of an era, right? But the start of—”

He looks down at the small box in his hand, and then stops talking. So he might be trippin’, but this is not— this is not what he was looking for. Frowning, Mark opens it, and lets out a gasp.

“The start of an age?” Jeno turns to look at him, chuckling, and then falls silent for a moment before he groans loudly. “Mark, what the _fuck?_ Where did you get that?”

He raises the ring to eye level, looking at Jeno incredulously. “You were gonna _propose_ to me? Like, _today_?”

Jeno snatches the ring from his hold, closing his fist around it defensively. “Yeah, at nightfall, but _someone_ had to snoop around and wreck my plans, so what am I gonna do—”

“Wait.”

“You _ruined_ the surprise, oh my God—”

“Hey, I said _wait_ ,” Mark pulls the basket to his lap, and pulls out his ring box. Jeno stops whining once he sees it. “And you’re talking about _me_ wrecking your plans? _You_ wrecked mine.”

“I—” Jeno’s mouth falls open. “ _Oh_. You too?”

“Yeah,” Mark laughs. He can’t help it. He keeps laughing, and soon enough Jeno’s expression softens, he presses a hand to his face as he laughs, and they lean into each other familiarly. “This is so…” He takes a deep breath. “This is so _ridiculous_. Is this why you were so pissed I didn’t let you carry the damn basket?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Jeno responds exasperatedly as he sits up straight. “Because you’re nosy and I thought you were going to see it, I can’t believe we— I can’t believe we had the same idea. _Of course_ we did."

Something inside Mark feels funny, like a billion butterflies just decided to spread their wings in his stomach. He holds out his small box — they even look the same, except that Jeno’s was a bit bigger —, and opens it in classic fashion.

“I forgot half of my speech,” Mark admits. “I want 2015, and I want, 2025, and I want everything after that, too. I don’t care if there’s no hoverboards — I want the future as long as there’s you in it.”

Jeno bites back a smile, his cheeks flushing a bright red, and holds out his hand, the ring on top of his palm. “I’m begging for you to wreck my plans,” breathes out. “All of them, anytime. I never wanted anything more.”

He doesn’t even know that to say — there isn’t anything to say. It’s obvious. It’s crystal clear. Mark is laughing when Jeno slides the ring into his finger, and almost drops the one he bought in between the wooden clapboards of the deck. “Just to be sure,” Jeno whispers as he inspects it, rubbing a thumb over the band. “Do you mean this?”

“I literally just said I’ll marry you,” Mark replies exasperatedly. “M-A-R-R-Y. I'm gonna walk down the aisle for you, I'd wear a fucking dress if you wanted me to. What else do you want me to say?”

He shrugs, smiling, and throws his arm around Mark’s shoulders, bringing him closer. "You're my fiancé," Jeno whispers against his mouth. His eyelashes tickle Mark's cheeks. "Say it so I know you know it's true."

Mark smiles, hands cupping his face adoringly. "I'm your fiancé. I'm all yours, angel face. Always have been."

“Please, never give me peace,” Jeno asks.

"Never?" Mark echoes. "Oh, you're so gonna regret saying this."

Jeno shakes his head negatively, his nose brushing against Mark's, and the latter can't help but press a kiss to the tip of it. Jeno lets out a soft laugh, and then Mark presses their lips together, sighing happily. “No, I won’t,” Jeno replies. “I’ve never regretted anything when it comes to you, and I’m not about to start now. Okay?”

Mark nods. “Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/prodbybx) | [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/historic)  
>   
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